a snow globe made up of the perfect little town and its perfect, tiny residents. If she hadn’t feared being thought of as callous she might have quoted a famous Dickens character and said, “Bah! Humbug!”
When Allison turned to replace the card in the basket she was using to collect them, Whitney almost burst out laughing. The slogan printed on the back of her T-shirt echoed those exact words.
“Love your shirt,” Whitney said with a chuckle. “It fits my mood perfectly after spending the afternoon chasing down clues and coming up empty-handed.”
“Maybe I have something else that will help,” the dark-haired woman offered. She reached into the bottom of the basket and produced an empty envelope. “I saved this.”
“What is it?”
“There’s no return address but the postmark is St. Louis, Missouri. That’s where the card came from.”
“Really?” Whitney snatched it from her so she could closely examine it. “I wonder if anyone else saved theirs.”
“I doubt it. I’m kind of funny that way. I hate to throw things away until I’m sure I don’t need them.” She giggled. “I still have an old photo of Sam that his sister, Lori, took when she and I were teenagers.”
Sam again. Romance again. Whitney rolled her eyes before thinking, happy to note that Allison had apparently not noticed.
“Mind if I keep this?” she asked, taking care to school her features and appear professional.
“No. Not at all. I hope it helps you.”
“Thanks,” Whitney said, tucking the envelope into her tote. “I’ve been to all the other new businesses but I’m going to go back and ask if any of them saved envelopes like you did, just in case they’re not all the same.”
“Have fun,” the willowy brunette said. “I can see why you’d want to visit Josh again. If I wasn’t so in love with my Sam I’d join you.”
“I only go there for coffee. And for information,” Whitney insisted, “although I sure don’t get much of the latter.”
It was Allison’s turn to roll her eyes. Whitney ignored her. There was only one newcomer not yet spoken for. Josh Smith. She was well aware of his single status. She was also aware that there was a standoffish quality to his persona that kept others at arm’s length. Whether that was true of everyone or mostly applied to the way he related to her was of no importance.
His actions had been clear. He was barely willing to carry on a meaningful conversation with her, let alone open up and share any confidences. As far as Whitney was concerned, that meant he was interesting without being interested. Particularly in her case.
Well, fine. He could be as closemouthed as he pleased. She’d work around his reticence this time, just as she had in the past. His would be the last shop she would recheck, and when she did, she intended to hang around until he at least showed her the greeting card he had received.
Josh saw his nemesis returning—and she looked more determined than ever. That was not a good sign.
“I’ll be in the back,” he told Matt. “If anyone asks for me, tell them I’m busy.”
“But...”
Without waiting to hear what else the teen had to say, Josh ducked into the computer gaming area and passed through it to the back room. It was here that he did his repairs, reserving his upstairs living quarters for the real work that paid his bills—and supported the large staff of Barton Technologies, as well.
When he had first come to Bygones he had tried to design software on the ground floor. Since it was too hard to concentrate when he had to keep stopping to brew fancy coffee drinks, he had eventually left the workshop area to serve as a diversion and moved his serious business to his second-floor apartment.
Listening at the curtained doorway he heard Whitney’s voice. “Hi, Matt. How’s it going?”
“Good, Ms. Leigh. What can I get for you? We just got another fresh delivery from the bakery. How about something sweet?”
“No, thanks,” she replied, sounding a bit disgruntled. “I was hoping to catch your boss. Have you seen him lately?”
“Um...yes, but he said he was pretty busy.”
Josh peeked past the edge of the curtain in the doorway and saw Whitney’s face. Her brow was knit, her head cocked to one side as she studied the teenager through those heavy-rimmed glasses of hers.
When she said, “Okay. I’ll wait,” Josh decided to step forward, show himself and get it over with.
“Looking for me?”
To his surprise and chagrin, the pretty reporter brightened and began to smile. “Yes!”
Josh did his best to appear relaxed and nonchalant as he sauntered toward her. “Well, you’ve found me. What’s up?”
He saw her scanning the shelves behind the counter where he kept his coffee supplies, cups and flavorings. She was apparently not finding whatever she was looking for, because her smile was fading and her expression was growing more and more intense.
“You don’t have any Christmas cards displayed.”
“No, I don’t. By the time the merchants’ decorating committee finished, there was barely room to function, let alone do it comfortably. I saw no reason to clutter up the place with more unnecessary paper.”
“But you kept your cards, didn’t you?” She stepped closer to him and he could feel the increasing tension.
Cards? She was looking for his Christmas cards?
The reason for her quest struck him like a physical blow. Of course! She meant the cards he’d had sent to the other merchants. And not to himself.
Feeling like a fool, particularly where the quick-witted reporter was concerned, he thrust his hands into his pockets and struck a casual pose. At least he hoped it was casual, because his gut was churning and he could feel perspiration developing on his forehead.
“I’m not very sentimental,” he said flatly.
“You celebrate Christmas, don’t you?”
“Of course. I went forward, accepted Pastor Garman’s invitation and joined the church.”
“I don’t mean that. How about customs and childhood remembrances? Didn’t your family celebrate with a tree and presents and things like that when you were young?”
Josh decided it was best to explain. Maybe then she’d stop expecting him to produce the nonexistent card.
“My father didn’t go in for a lot of sentimental stuff,” Josh said. “He preferred to look at Christmas as an opportunity to further his business interests, and my mother abided by his wishes. Putting wrapped gifts under his fancy, decorator tree would have spoiled the artistic effect.”
“That is so sad,” Whitney said softly, laying her hand gently on his forearm.
The
